Echoes of the War

by J. M. Barrie

'It's bad for me, but it's worse for you.'

'The men have medals to win, you see.'

'The women have their medals, too.' He knows she likes him to order her about, so he tries it again.

'Come here. No, I'll come to you.' He stands gaping at her wonderingly. He has no power of words, nor does he quite know what he would like to say. 'God!'

'What is it, Kenneth?'

'You're a woman.'

'I had near forgot it.'

He wishes he was at the station with Dixon. Dixon is sure to have a bottle in his pocket. They will be roaring a song presently. But in the meantime—there is that son business. Blethers, the whole thing, of course—or mostly blethers. But it's the way to please her.

'Have you noticed you have never called me son?'

'Have I noticed it! I was feared, Kenneth. You said I was on probation.'